


when we rise in the morning

by frederickdesvoeux (doomdxys)



Category: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fix-It, M/M, Non-Chronological, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Terrortober 2020, Trans Character, Trans Des Voeux, Trans Male Character, survival AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:14:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 3,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26757829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doomdxys/pseuds/frederickdesvoeux
Summary: The door creaks as it opens. Then there’s a scream, something that seems to fall and Frederick loses Edmund to a whirlwind of arms belonging to confused family members.(A glimpse in the post-Franklin Expedition life of Frederick Des Voeux and Edmund Hoar)
Relationships: Charles Frederick Des Voeux/Edmund Hoar
Comments: 18
Kudos: 5





	1. 1. daguerreotype

**Author's Note:**

> Written for caravaggiosbrushes' terrortober challenge which isn't confined to art so writing it is! Also me trying to force myself to actually write these two idiots and finish things. 
> 
> Any historical notes are always at the end.
> 
> Any chapters above T-rated will have the rating mentioned in the title, as do chapters where trans Frederick is a major point.

“I’ve never had my photograph taken.”

The daguerreotype taken of Frederick lies between them, upon the envelope and letter it had come with. Edmund gently runs his fingers across the edges, like he’s afraid it’s going to tear with the slightest strain. There’s an upwards flicker of his eyes, looking some quiet permission maybe, before he turns it around so the imaged Frederick is facing him.

The real Frederick merely leans back against the wall. “Really?”

Edmund shrugs. “There wasn’t any money for that kind of thing.” There’s no malice in his voice towards Frederick’s tone of mild surprise. He picks up the picture, squints at slightly to try and remember anything that he may have forgotten from before.

“Maybe we should change that,” Frederick mutters after a moment of silence and he can’t hold in a soft laugh as Edmund ducks his head as a response.

“Maybe.” Edmund puts the picture down again, just as careful as he’d picked it up just before. There’s a small blush creeping above his beard.


	2. 2. spyglass

**Mid-Late 1860s.**

Edmund flies into the room like a whirlwind, shirt partially unbuttoned, his hair a mess testifying to his outdoors activities with the hoard of children that had been running around their house for the past week.

“What—“ Frederick doesn’t even get the chance to finish his question as Edmund nearly pushes him out of his chair to get to the middle drawer of the desk.

“Your spyglass!” he exclaims loudly and through the open window Frederick can hear the children giggle.

“Yes in there—” Frederick gets interrupted by a triumphant yell, Edmund pulling out the spyglass from beneath a heap of unread Admiralty letters. “Can i ask what you’re about to—” Edmund sprints out of the room again, Frederick forgotten. “—nevermind.”

He can hear Edmund bolt down the stairs and several seconds later the back door slams shut, the children yelling. Frederick’s curiosity takes over; he abandons his work — crudely interrupted by Edmund right before anyway — to go check on the group outside.

Young Eddie has grabbed the spyglass by the time Frederick makes it into the garden, the boy excitedly trying to find whatever creature Edmund had spotted near the woods’ tree line and clearly wants the children to see. Frederick sits himself next to Ann instead of joining the mess, greeting her with a slight smile, not wanting to interrupt her reading, though he’s not entirely sure how she manages to do any reading with the noise being produced.

A shriek scares the both of them as Young Eddie finally finds what Edmund has been trying to make him see. The spyglass gets passed along excitedly, but Frederick’s hope that the children would not bother him is quickly shattered.

“Uncle Freddie—” Ann laughs into her book, failing to keep a straight face, much like her brother. “—Uncle Freddie! Join us! Uncle Eddie has found a squirrel!”

Edmund smiles, half encouragement, half amusement at Frederick’s expense as Elizabeth and Harry run up to Frederick, pulling at his hands in an effort to get him up. “Come on, Frederick dear, don’t tell me you don’t want to see a squirrel.”

Ann nudges him gently in the ribs with her elbow and Frederick realizes he can’t reject the children’s wish for him to see the same squirrel he’d been seeing all spring.

“Alright, where’s this evil squirrel.” He shoots a foul look at Edmund when he gets pulled past him, he’d have to get payback for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone in this fic exists! 
> 
> \- Ann is Ann Hoar, Ed's younger sister. Young Eddie is her son, Edmund Charles Jenkins, Ed's namesake.  
> \- Elizabeth and Harry are the children of Ed's younger brother Henry.  
> \- All kids are both around 1860.


	3. 3. ship

**1849**

It feels good to be able to sit in nothing but their shirtsleeves again, properly washed and their injuries taken care of. Frederick cannot pretend he cares for rank anymore, for societal standing and manners, spending as much time as he can beside Edmund’s bedside, ignoring the many calls from the Investigator’s officers to talk to him.

“McClure wants to speak to me again,” he sighs after he sinks down into the chair beside Edmund’s hammock. he grabs Edmund’s hand under the blanket covering Edmund’s still pale form; the arctic had not been kind to either of them.

Edmund laughs, then coughs, violently, his other hand not raised quick enough to dampen the most of it. It earns Frederick a stern glance from the surgeon across the room which they both opt to ignore. “Maybe you should indulge him for once.”

“Maybe—” He shifts in his seat. “—I have no answers that will satisfy him.”

Edmund runs his thumb over Frederick’s knuckles, his eyes a quiet _i know_. Neither of them had properly spoken over what had happened, not between the two of them, not with any of their rescuers. They had all spoken with Captain Crozier, once, before he’d been given a cabin aboard the Enterprise and they’d all agreed to not talk about Tuunbaq or the mutiny until back in England.

“None of you should have to worry about court martials in the state you are in,” Crozier had said. The voice still echoes through the back of Frederick’s mind, complete with creeping guilt and a nauseous anxiety. Somewhere, deep down, he was sure he deserved that mentioned court martial.

“You’re wandering again,” Edmund mutters, mistaking Frederick’s anxiety for his inability to stay entirely in the present, a result of everything they’d gone through. Frederick can’t help but notice how Edmund blinks slowly, fighting an urge to sleep every time Frederick shows up at his bedside.

“Yes, sorry—” He squeezes Edmund’s hand. “—I shouldn’t be spending your waking hours being in other places.”

“Where were you?”

The arctic? A court room filled with people ready to sentence him to death? “Home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went with the real Ross' rescue mission from '48-'49 simply because it was the only way to keep people alive enough for rescue. I'm being vague on purpose on when in canon they get rescued because I simply have a few different ideas for it and it doesn't matter all that much. 
> 
> Wink wink nod nod @ my fellow Rossiers over the the Croz-on-Enterprise mention.


	4. 5. ring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fell behind for buttons, so ... chapter 4 is fill 5 for now. I'll do buttons later on!

The kitchen door creaks as Frederick closes it behind him. the sun streams in through the open windows, throwing an almost golden shine across Edmund’s curls. It’s endearing to Frederick how Edmund still insists on doing housework, even after they had hired multiple people to help out.

He puts his empty cup in the sink before leaning against the counter to watch Edmund work on some battered shirt that had likely seen much better days. Probably sentimental and he doesn’t question it further.

“What’s on your mind?” Edmund asks after a while, clipping a piece of thread with his teeth. He folds the shirt quickly, a never lost skill from the navy.

“Have you—” Frederick frowns and chews his lip. “—ever thought about marriage?”

Edmund freezes, shirt floating mid-air above a pile of clothes. a thick, tangible silence falls between them; Frederick realizes almost immediately he fucked up in one way or another.

“Not really.” Edmund’s voice is short—clipped. The shirt finds the other clothes and before Frederick can properly explain further, Edmund has picked up the pile and walked out the door. Loud footsteps ascending upstairs echo through the house before Frederick fully realizes what happened.

* * *

Unsure of how to deal with the situation, Frederick decides to let it rest for the rest of the day, noticing that Edmund is trying to avoid being in a room with. They don’t interact beyond a short “i’ll be back later” and then Edmund is out of the house for several hours.

Despite all the noise, people preparing dinner in the kitchen and cleaning several rooms, the house feels quiet. Frederick locks himself in the bedroom as a result, occupying his favourite chair by the window and watching the tree line at the end of their garden.

It’s several hours, and a possible nap, before the front door opens again. Quiet voices filter their way upstairs, but Frederick can’t make out what they say, all he knows is that Edmund’s brought a visitor. So far for solving this over dinner.

He doesn’t get time to wallow in his self-caused self-pity, a short knock interrupting him. Before he can say anything, Harriet lets herself in, her face stuck on thunderstorm.

“I heard you’re getting married.” what?

He frowns, gesturing for her to sit down in the other chair. Outside the sun sinks behind the trees. “No? Who told you that?”

“My brother,” she bites, clearly protective and more in the know about Edmund’s emotions than Frederick, “The one living in this house. Apparently you coldly informed him.”

“Oh God—”

“Oh God, indeed.”

Frederick lets his head sink into his hands, talking against his palms more than against his hopefully soon to be sister-in-law. “I fear there’s been a miscommunication.”

Harriet raises her eyebrows in mocking bemusement. “Really? Do tell.”

“ _Harry.”_ He shoots her a pleading glance over his fingers before hanging his head again. “I asked him if he’d ever thought about marriage, because—”

“—You’re getting married—”

“—No.” Another glance upwards, now impatient, annoyed even. “Because i wanted to ask _him_.” To make sure his emphasis doesn’t go unnoticed, though he doubts anything could escape Harriet, he shifts in his chair, one hand digging around in his waistcoat pockets.

“Here,” he mutters, handing her a simple silver ring, “Remember when he lost his ring, the one he got right before we left for the arctic? I had stolen it to make sure this one would fit him correctly.”

“Freddie—” Harriet falls silent as she turns the ring between her fingers. “—you’re gonna solve this right now. say I’ll be late for dinner because I need to freshen up or something.” She thrusts the ring back into his hands and stands up with enough force to send the chair backwards slightly.

She stops midway her first step, turning to grab Frederick’s face, like some wiser older sister even though she’s the younger of the both of them. “And you better make sure he says yes.”

“Harry— _Harry!_ ”

* * *

“Edmund love?”

“Frederick—” Voice still short, Edmund doesn’t even turn to greet Frederick as he walks into the dining room.

But he also doesn’t shy away when Frederick walks up to meet him by the kitchen door—maybe progress. “Ithink we need to talk,” he starts, fiddling awkwardly with the ring inside his pocket.

Edmund turns from where he’s leaning against the doorframe and Frederick mentally kicks himself when he sees the redness still lingering around Edmund’s eyes. He reaches out but Edmund turns away again, too angry still to deal with any kindness.

“—I. well—” He slips the ring out of his pocket, holds it tightly within his fist as he struggles for words. It’s like someone is removing his ability to form sentences every time he tries.

“Spit it out, Frederick.” The last part of the name dies in Edmund’s throat as he tries to hold back a sob. Change of approach, Frederick decides, steering away from his initial plan to quietly explain the entire misunderstanding.

“Do you want to marry me?” he holds the ring out awkwardly.

“ _What?”_ Edmund’s eyes shoot from Frederick’s face to the ring and back, looking for any kind of sign that he’s part of a giant practical joke.

“Harry told me that you think that i’m going to get married because I asked you what your thoughts are on marriage—” He pauses to press the ring into Edmund’s hand. “—and you think that meant I’m leaving you, but I was trying to ask what you think of the idea of marriage.”

The confusion on Edmund’s face only seems to grow, his fingers playing with the ring. “—You stole my ring?” he asks after a while and Frederick can’t help but burst out in laughter.

The ring nearly falls on the floor as Frederick fumbles to take it back and put it on Edmund’s finger properly. “Yes—yes I did,” he admits after he manages to properly put the new one. A relieved sigh at the proper fit.

A good type of redness spreads across Edmund’s face, replacing the one caused by sadness with something Frederick can’t entirely put a name on. He reaches out for Edmund’s face again and this time Edmund doesn’t pull back.

“I’m an idiot,” he mutters before kissing Edmund slowly. He can feel the coldness of the ring on his skin as Edmund grabs the back of his neck.

“Yes, yes you are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harriet/Harry is Harriet Hoar, another one of Edmund's sisters.


	5. [trans] 6. dress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for some internalized gender struggles/issues, but no major transphobic thoughts.

The dress lies in front of them like a family member that had just fainted right onto their bed, the arms sprawled across the mattress, the skirt heaped up near the edge. A pair of matching shoes stands, rather in contrast, neatly on the floor below it all.

“You don’t have to,” Edmund whispers, fingers gentle as they run across Frederick’s bare lower arm. They both know it will fit — perfectly so, Ann had made sure of that — yet something suddenly stands between them, an entire wall Frederick knew he had build and one Edmund had not been aware of until now.

“I know.” Frederick fiddles with the edge of his trousers. His voice drops to a volume that almost requires Edmund to lean closer. “I want to. But it—it’s been years.”

The implication behind the words, the doubt and worry, does not escape Edmund. He can remember the desire and joy that had shone in Frederick’s eyes when they’d unpacked the dress days before; he can still see it now, somewhere behind all the fear. All of it lingers in the way Frederick’s fingers keep reaching out for the fabric, how his toes edge towards the neat shoes.

“Darling—” His hand travels down Frederick’s arm to gently tug his fingers away from the trousers, to force him to turn his attention away from the dress with as little pressure as possible. “—dearest.”

Edmund cups Frederick’s cheek, forcing Frederick to look at him rather than the dress. He places a soft kiss on the corner of Frederick’s mouth. It’s enough to make Frederick turn towards him entire, attention far less divided.

“This undoes nothing.” He rests his hands on Frederick’s chest, the scars obvious underneath them. “No mistakes have been made, you aren’t betraying anything. You are allowed this, my love.”

Frederick’s eyes fall from the hands on his chest to the dress and back. Even with his face half-hidden, Edmund can tell he’s poked a hole somewhere in Frederick’s doubt, however tiny. He knows Frederick is allowed this—wants this, from the way his fingers had run across fabric samples to the way they’d gotten distracted trying to get all the measurements done. (“How did you manage to take over an hour for this?” Ann asked.

“We got distracted,” Frederick replied, deadpan, unable to hide a smirk at the way Ann rolled her eyes at him.)

His fingers gently caress the scars before travelling down Frederick’s upper body, coming to rest on the trousers’ buttons. “Do you want this?”

“Yes—”

Edmund interrupts before the inevitable _but_ shows up. “Then you’re allowed this.” He slowly undoes the top button, slow enough for Frederick to still decide that he’s not ready after all.

They work through the many layers slowly, in nothing but silence, not even speaking to give directions as they try to figure out how everything works without asking any of the women in the house for help. Frederick unfolds slowly during it all, fingers running across lace, palms flattening out silk almost self-reassuring. Edmund places a kiss on Frederick’s exposed shoulder, hands resting in the small of Frederick’s back, done up ribbon underneath his fingers, and he can see the small smile on Frederick’s face in the as he looks up through his eyelashes.

“You look perfect,” Edmund breaks the silence eventually, hands still on the shoe he just finished putting on.

Frederick awkwardly smoothens the bottom of the dress as Edmund gets back up, nothing but love and adoration in his eyes. “So not like a common whore?”

Edmund can tell the remark is meant to hide some insecurity, some feeling of being a joke, that Edmund will mock him despite all the previous steps. He reaches out for Frederick, motioning for him to grab his hands.

“No,” he whispers after he pulls Frederick onto his feet, “you look perfect—and you’re still every bit the man I married.” The dress protests slightly as Edmund leans in to kiss Frederick, every word meant.


	6. 12. hat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i got sick af and fell behind for a week, so expect some catch-up!

Somehow, through all the fog of their rescue, the Admiralty meetings and the entire expedition, Frederick manages to remember that Edmund’s birthday is mere days after they’re released from duty and able to move into the Hoar’s family home.

It’s been good, Edmund’s family accepting him into their home without much questioning and clearly more than happy to accomodate either of them until more definite rulings are in place. Occasionally, it makes Frederick worry that they’re only welcoming him because him and Edmund have turned into a weird package deal, but it’s a worry quickly dispelled when the doorbell rings the day of Edmund’s birthday.

He dashes downstairs as quietly as possible to avoid waking Edmund up, but the door’s already been answered, the kitchen filled with noise as Harriet and Edmund’s mum seem to discuss whatever one of them had accepted at the door.

“—for Frederick, Harry—” Frederick comes to a stop right outside the door, unsure if he wants to barge into the conversation. “So don’t open it, it’s his business not ours.”

Harriet seems to clack her tongue. It’s followed by the noise of cardboard hitting the wooden table; a chair scrapes over the floor. “Fine. Maybe it’s for Eddie’s birthday, I think he’d know about it. They seem close.”

Frederick moves from one foot onto the other, suddenly sweating at the tone of her voice. If her mother had noticed the tone, she doesn’t seem to give it any mind. “You question him a lot,” she says, “he’s good for our Ed and he’s nice.”

“Yes.” Someone bites into an apple. “True. I like him, mum, don’t worry.”

The kitchen falls into silence and Frederick takes it as his cue to finally reveal he’s awake, knocking softly before entering the kitchen. “Good morning.”

Only Harriet is left, her mother having left for the garden quiet enough for Frederick to have missed it. She looks up from the old newspaper she’s reading, half-eaten apple in one hand. “Morning. Something came for you.” She waves the apple at the package.

She seems to be able to read Frederick’s, quite frankly poorly hidden, expression instantly, leaning back in her chair. “What’s in it? Is it for my brother?”

“Yes—” He shakes the package delicately, the contents rummaging slightly. “he always wanted a hat, so—so I got him one. Are you about to tell me I got his birthday wrong?”

“No, no it’s absolutely today don’t worry.” She returns to her paper. “You’re a good man, Fred.”


	7. 13. brotherhood

**Early 1850s.**

It’s a flashback to forty two. In front of him stands a young man, shorter than him, almost the spitting image of the Frederick he met in China, though less sweaty and tanned. He smiles politely, a little more crooked than his older counterpart, hair styled in the opposite direction.

“I’m William,” the man says; a lower-pitched voice and Edmund blinks repeatedly, awkwardly realising he’s just been staring for a full minute. He steps aside hastily to let William in.

“I send a warning ahead about my visit, but I assume Frederick forgot to tell you.” William fiddles awkwardly with his hat as he looks around to take in the hall.

Edmund closes the door again, partially glad that William hadn’t taken him for a servant, maybe Frederick had been writing to family members about them, despite everything. “He did not, which I’m sure will come up again after your visit.” He smiles slightly, hoping the half-joke lands.

If it doesn’t, William doesn’t show it, smiling back in return, rather politely.

“Is he in?” he asks after a servant helps him out of his coat and takes his hat away, following Edmund into the sitting room.

“Yes—” Edmund motions for William to sit down, sitting down in the opposite chair himself. “—I asked Mary to tell him you’re here, but he has been busy answering letters so it might be a few minutes.” It still feels awkward to have other people do everything for him, his hands itching to go make tea himself rather have people see to it.

William laughs, to Edmund’s surprise. “That does sound like Frederick, he’s always been a writer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> William is George William Des Voeux, Frederick's younger half-brother (through his father) who was the one to complain about Fred's name being misspelled on the Waterloo Place statue. He went by his middle name and actually has a wikipedia place as he became governor of a few places, though this scene is set before that happens. He was 10-11 y/os when the Franklin Expedition left and is around 17 in my head for this scene. (Edmund and Frederick met when Frederick was either nearing 18 or had just turned it).
> 
> Mary is a made up person.


	8. 7. love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> catch up #1 ! for 7. love

Sometimes, Edmund considers himself a morning person; in the summer, when the curtains aren’t all the way closed and the sunlight falls through the gaps, casting golden streaks across the blankets.

He perches himself on the back of Frederick’s bed, crosslegged, a fresh cup of tea in his hands. Frederick is everything but a morning person, grumbling at the invading sun and turning away to the wall. His hair falls across his forehead and eyes, far from the usual perfection he tries to maintain—tried to maintain.

Edmund smiles at the sleeping shape, resisting to abandon his comfortable position to swipe the hairs from Frederick’s face. He sips his tea instead, eyes never leaving Frederick. It’s comforting to see him sleep like that again, peaceful, no nightmares plaguing him. His face has filled out over the months, since their rescue, the colour on his cheeks no longer one of sunburn and frostbite.

It’s the Frederick he fell in love with again, no longer the skeleton that dragged itself across the wasteland, but the young officer in China, fond of chocolate and chatting people up in french. Who fell asleep in the ship’s hammocks, not even his own, just as peacefully, chocolate wrapper falling from his hand, chocolate taste on his lips as he kissed Edmund in far too public places.

Another sip, bitter taste lingering on his tongue. Sometimes he misses China and the secrecy they’d exercised. The excitement of sneaking around the lower decks and the dirty streets of Nanjing. Not that he’d swap their current situation for then, despite all that had happened, he loves watching Frederick far too much for that, no need to hide.

Frederick shifts under the blankets with more grumbling, followed by a loud groan and two feet hit Edmund’s crossed ankles. tired, squinted eyes peer at Edmund, trying to deal with the light and the annoyance of waking up. “Have you been there the entire time?” he croaks, voice cracking halfway through.

Edmund smiles, patting Frederick’s leg through the blanket. “Good morning, dear.”


	9. 14. food

The orange lands in the grass with a soft thud, Edmund’s shocked face going from looking at it to looking back at Frederick.

“I told you to catch!” Frederick exclaims, fake disappointed, several oranges threatening to spill out of the small box in his arms. He dumps the box beside him as he sits down on the bench, a small peck on Edmund’s cheek as a quick greeting.

“Do you know how expensive those are?” Edmund blinks several times as he accepts another, not dropped to the ground, orange from Frederick.

Frederick shrugs, digging his nails into the orange’s peel, juice trickling out almost instantly. “I felt we deserved a treat.” He drops a part of the peel to the grass carelessly, makes a small spectacle of sucking the juice of his fingers, refusing to break eye contact with Edmund.

Edmund looks away and clears his throat. The orange turns restlessly in his hands; Edmund makes no effort of attempting to peel it.

“Darling—” Frederick leans forwards, trying to capture Edmund’s eyes again. “—it’s fine, you don’t have to worry.” He breaks a piece of the orange and dangles it in front of Edmund, waving it around awkwardly and occasionally making it touch Edmund’s closed mouth until the latter can’t help but laugh at the stupidity.

“I guess—” he manages before Frederick wrestles the piece into his half-open mouth, juice spilling across his chin as the orange breaks against his teeth. He shoots Frederick a death glare before crudely shoving the rest of the piece into his mouth.

Frederick leans back with a smug grin. “Good.” He bites a piece of his own part of orange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are oranges expensive in the mid-19th century? idk. let's pretend they are!


End file.
